


No pet names

by Samara Lilly (Amber_Rose)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-30 18:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19408699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Rose/pseuds/Samara%20Lilly
Summary: A demon and an angel, a first kiss and some talking. Nothing more but pure fluff.





	No pet names

**Author's Note:**

> My first try in the Good Omens fandom! Oh I loved the show so much and have to thank everyone involved to make this that perfect!

After they have left the Ritz, in desperate need of some more champagne to celebrate the armageddon-that-didn’t-happen, Crowley invites Aziraphale into his flat. He has done this before, on this bench in Tadfield, waiting for the bus to bring them back to London. Has offered him to spend the night in his flat, because Aziraphale’s shop and flat had burnt down. The angel had refused. But now Aziraphale only hesitates for the blink of an eye, before smiling and nodding. 

And so they have another bottle of champagne, enjoying each other’s company after all the ruckus they have survived, sitting together on Crowley’s enormous red velvet sofa and chatting about the events of the last few days. At some point during the evening Crowley rubs the spot between his eyebrows, dislodging his dark glasses in doing so. Aziraphale smiles at him. 

"You don’t have to wear these, when we’re alone." And before Crowley can react, Aziraphale raises his hands und gently lifts the dark glasses off of Crowley’s nose, revealing his lizard-like, yellow eyes, golden spots dancing around the pupils, slightly rounder than usual thanks to the dim light in Crowley’s sitting room. 

Crowley blinks twice, than smiles. "I always enjoy taking them off in your presence, you know that. Just forgot," he drawls. Aziraphale puts the dark glasses on the coffee table. 

"I know. Seems you’re the most comfortable when I’m around. Am I right?"

"You know, you are." Crowley mutters, then lifts his glass to sip at his champagne, avoiding Aziraphale’s gaze. Is there something different? The way he looks at him seems to have… changed? Crowley squints his eyes and looks closer. Aziraphale, who tends to avoid his gaze sometimes, now looks back like never before. What is that? Crowley is used to a certain fondness, sometimes amusement about something Crowley had said or done, mostly more embarrassment or even discomfort. But this look is different. It is… no, it can’t be. 

Crowley swallows hard and feels heat rush through his body into his cheeks. He tries to turn away, tries to hide, that his own feelings towards the angel rise once again to the surface. Feelings he usually keeps so well hidden under layers and layers of snarky remarks, little quips, sometimes rude comments and irony. He’s gotten so good at it, that he sometimes thinks, that he’s over it. That he can continue their friendship as just that: friendship. But then Aziraphale smiles one of his bright smiles or chuckles the way he sometimes does and - bam! There it is again: the desperate love Crowley has felt for 6.000 years now, crushing over him like a giant wave, and he has to work hard to suppress his feelings again. Because Aziraphale is an angel. He is so much better than Crowley. He does deserve someone better to love him.

All this goes through Crowley’s mind this very minute while he tries to identify what that look an his angel’s face means. It can’t mean love. It just can’t. And right now Aziraphale takes a deep breath.

"Crowley… have you ever… erm…" There is a light blush creeping onto Aziraphale’s cheeks, but then he continues: "Have you ever been with… someone?"

"Been with - what do you mean?" Crowley snaps, wishes his dark glasses back but doesn’t dare to reach for them to put them back on. He would offend Aziraphale horribly, if he did so. And so he sits perfectly still, although he feels the itch to move and squirm with unease and uncertainty. 

"You know very well, what I mean. Have you ever had some kind of relationship?" Aziraphale now asks openly.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You know damn well that I am not the boyfriend type. I’m a demon. I seduce humans. But I don’t do relationships."

"I wasn’t talking about humans." Aziraphale now looks down at his hands neatly folded in his lap and back up again to be able to look Crowley in the eyes. 

"Then what the hell are you talking about? You’re making no sense! Perhaps you should sober up, you seem to have had to much of this fizzy stuff." Crowley puts his glass onto the coffee table and shifts to get up. But Aziraphale grabs his arm (quite forceful for an angel) and keeps him on the sofa. 

"Don’t run away from me, Crowley. I did run away from me for a little eternity, and I am tired of it. I… please don’t go. I would never work up the courage again to speak about us, if you left me now."

Crowley feels a deep ache inside his chest. 

"I would never leave you, angel. It was you who left me," he says, and Aziraphale can hear the pain in his voice. Yes, he had turned Crowley away. And deeply regrets it. He wants to make sure that this never happens again. Because nobody was ever that important to him. For 6.000 years has he secretly admired the beautiful demon, his sharp looks, his elegance, his mannerisms, his intelligence and wicked humor. He has tried so hard to just see a friend in him, sometimes even denying that they are friends. Which he is so sorry for now. Because he always known that he was important to Crowley. Very important. 

Angels have the great advantage, that everybody likes them immediately. Demons are the opposite. So no, Crowley doesn’t have friends - except Aziraphale. But Aziraphale has caught some of the glances Crowley sometimes throws at him. As an angel he can feel love emitting from other beings. And he is able to feel so much love practically radiating off from his demon - love for him, Aziraphale is absolutely sure. And he is tired of denying it. Tired of denying that he himself feels the same love for Crowley. Even more so after the latest events. They are on their own side now. Time to make something of it.

"Yes, I left you. And I am so sorry I did that to you. I hurt your feelings. And don’t deny now that you have feelings. We would never be best friends if you didn’t have them."

"I’m a demon. Demons don’t -"

"Don’t do relationships, I get it," Aziraphale interrupts him, "And maybe other demons don’t have feelings. But you have. I know you." 

Aziraphale’s hand slides up Crowley’s arm, up, up, over his shoulder. Crowley’s eyes widen with each inch this warm angelic hand slides closer to his head. 

"Crowley…" Aziraphale whispers, his hand now touching the skin of Crowley’s neck, moving further, coming into contact with the nape of his neck, tentatively touching the soft red hair there, "Anthony - I’ve always wanted to know how your hair feels like…" 

Aziraphale moves closer, his fingers moving higher, carding through Crowleys hair now. Crowley is frozen. He tries to suppress a shiver that threatens to run down his spine. Oh, this feels marvelous… Crowley stares into Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes, sees them sparkling, as the angel smiles a little, obviously enjoying the feeling. 

"What - angel?" Crowley asks, his voice trembling slightly. 

"I’m sorry I turned you away. I will never turn you away again." Aziraphale’s face is suddenly so close - how did he move so close?, Crowley wonders. But then every thought is cut short, when he feels Aziraphale’s lips on his own, and with a moan and a sigh and his heart beating like thunder in his chest he closes his eyes and revels in this feeling.

It feels like electricity burning him, and for he second Crowley fears, that this touch of lips will cause a chain reaction, that they will both explode for fraternizing this way - a demon and an angel kissing? That’s something new, for sure. But nothing is exploding around them. Just inside them. It’s joy. It’s relief. It’s pure happiness. Are demons supposed to feel happy? Crowley decides, that he doesn’t care in the slightest and finally responds to the kiss. 

Before he even realizes what he is doing, he raises his hands, cupping Aziraphale’s face with both his big hands with a gentleness, that makes Aziraphale’s heart beat even faster. His fingertips make contact with the angel’s blond curls. They are as soft as Crowley has always imagined them. He hears Aziraphale moan quietly and feels his other hand on his chest, just above his heart. Crowley can’t resist anymore. He carefully opens his lips and is immediately met with the sweet, warm touch of Aziraphale’s tongue. And from this point on their kiss gets heated and messy and passionate and desperate, and they both forget everything else around them. The only thing still existing is THEM, finally together, and it feels like the last 6.000 years had only led to this. 

*

It’s exactly 2 hours and 36 minutes since their first kiss. Aziraphale is sure he will remember it for the rest of his life. Aziraphale doesn’t need sleep, but he knows Crowley likes to sleep and can tell, that the demon is tired. Tired, but content and calm, lying in Aziraphale’s arms, still on Crowley’s big red sofa in his posh flat in the middle of London. Crowley’s cheek is snuggled against Aziraphale’s neck, his breath ghosting over the angel’s skin. Aziraphale’s hands are slowly moving over Crowley’s back. They haven’t spoken since their lips had first met. But now Aziraphale feels the need to say something. 

"This changes everything, does it?" He asks quietly. 

"Hm?" Crowley growls, then mumbles: "Why, you gonna move in with me?"

"What?" Aziraphale chuckles, then presses a kiss into Crowley’s red hair. "Bit early for that, don’t you think?"

"We’ve known each other for 6.000 years. I wouldn’t think it too early. But if it’s not that, then why should anything change?" Crowley moves his hand beneath Aziraphale’s waistcoat. Their jackets have long since ended in a heap on the floor. 

"Well, seems we’re a couple now."

"And? We’re still best friends, are we not?" Now Crowley lifts his head and looks Aziraphale in the eyes. 

"Of course we are. But… also a couple. There will be…" Aziraphale blushes again, and Crowley is sure he has never seen anything that endearing and beautiful. Endearing?, he scolds himself. He is definitely not a sentimental idiot. But Aziraphale continues his sentence now: "Well, there will be kissing. Touching. Cuddling. Romance."

"What about sex?", Crowley asks, his hand moving back and starting to fumble with the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat. 

"Oh… that… erm…"

"You ever tried it?" Crowley pops the first button free. 

"I’m an angel!" Aziraphale says, sounding - what? Embarrassed? Mortified? Scared? Crowley isn’t sure. 

"What about that? Have you?" A second button… Aziraphale reaches for his hand and grabs it, squeezing it slightly. 

"I… Well, yes. Of course. It’s a form of love, isn’t it?"

Crowley laughs a rumbling laugh, coming from deep inside his chest. "Good. Very good," he says, but then frowns, because Aziraphale is still holding his hand. 

"Am I going too fast for you again?" Crowley asks, a little afraid that in fact he is going to fast. He doesn’t even know, if Aziraphale wants to have sex with him at all. 

Aziraphale smiles. "Maybe a bit. We have waited for so many years. What’s a few more days? I think, you should rest now. Sleep. You’re tired."

Crowley doesn’t show, how relieved he is. So they are going to be intimate. Even if it takes some more time. It’s fine. He can wait. Because Aziraphale is right: they have waited for so long, they can wait a little longer. He sighs and snuggles back into Aziraphale’s warmth, cheek once again pressed against his skin. 

"Only one thing, angel," Crowley murmurs, eyes already closed. Sleeping sounds like the perfect idea with Aziraphale’s arms close around him. 

"What thing, my dearest?" Aziraphale sighs, enjoying the warm presence of his demon in his arms. 

Crowley wrinkles his nose, knowing fully well, that Aziraphale can’t see him grimacing. "No sentimental rubbish. You know I’m not that kind of bloke. And most importantly: no stupid pet names. I hate sentimental pet names. Horrible. Imbecile. Ridiculous. Promise me, angel."

A wide grin spreads over Aziraphale’s face. He is a hundred percent sure his demon does it unconsciously. Because what else is it but a pet name, when Crowley calls him "angel"? But he doesn’t mention it. He just says: "Sure, Anthony. Sure." 

Aziraphale, too, closes his eyes now. He could lay like this for aeons and looks forward for their future. Together. Finally. Forever.


End file.
